Closing Time // nachtheexe

Quotas were down. 

Quotas were down! The statistics and all the numbers derived from them did not lie. There was a major deficiency in the harvest and the Capitol would never stand for it. There were mouths to feed, not within their own ranks but all across the nation. The harvest of District 11 was, quite literally, the lifeline of all involved. 

It was only a shame the good hardworking citizens of District 11 did not seem to have a full appreciation for their own handiwork.

Neglect, and even outright resistance, had sprouted up like a bunch of weeds as of late. Odius, of course, saw to it that such sentiment was crushed all across the District. Stepping out of line, whether intentionally or not, always carried great risk for all involved. All it ever really took to ignite a blazing inferno was a single spark. 

That single spark simply had to be extinguished. Before it could spread. 

Standing at attention for long periods of time always remained the least favourite of Odius' copious duties, but today it appeared a necessary one. He had to convey the image of the well-rounded and ideal Capitol citizen that he was. Loyal was something he was, but was even the stiffness worth all the credential? It was a question that nobody dared to entertain, even less so the immense pale man himself. The Capitol was right, and most of all they were his lifeblood. 

Serving the overlords came with its own set of perks, but it also came with its trials. Between weeding out the sources of decreased wheat production and the overall general troublemakers he was truly left with little time to entertain much else at all. Even thoughts of home and his family all became a blur as his blood began to boil. Today's appointment was enough to get anybody on edge. Druso. Once again he had managed to place himself directly into the Peacekeepers' sights. Surely it was hardly the healthiest existence for one man, but certain measures were necessary. He, if anything, was merely another individual with possible rebel sympathies. He was the spark.

It was necessary to extinguish sparks before they spread into something larger and more destructive. 

To Odius' slight surprise, though, the man walked right in. He seemingly took no qualms with his summons at all. A brilliant actor or perhaps a man simply trying to avoid evoking the wrath of the most powerful officials in Panem? The true intentions of some were difficult to read. This man remained no exception, only producing a nod from the uniformed man who greeted him.

Odius eyed him from behind his helmet, giving a second nod. "Please have a seat, Druso." He demanded. It was rare for him to address anybody by first name at all but Druso had become familiar, almost as if he was an old friend. 

"I am glad to hear that Magda will no longer be trouble, but I'm afraid today's summons are not regarding her at all." At last the Peacekeeper removed his helmet and allowed his icy cold gaze to meet Druso's face. "The numbers. Have you checked them at all?" 

The Peacekeeper's pale palm met the surface of the polished wooden desk beneath it. He began to frantically press down into it, only raising his hand to fetch the worn clipboard beside him. He gazed over it. Numbers, numbers, and more numbers. To some, it was little more than gibberish; an incomprehensible algorithm. To Druso and his crew, however, it was more. Much more. As far as the Peacekeeper was concerned it was the difference between allowance for the lot of them and, truth was, as things currently stood it was not looking good for them. 

"You know we have quotas to meet and the performance of yourself and your own crew has not been stellar. We've been watching rather closely." The pale Peacekeeper finally concluded, slamming down the clipboard in front of the man that remained situated across from him. "Rebellion against us and the President, or whatever this little game is, ends now." The icy gaze remained locked on the man as if to give the dreaded warning that went without saying for most. The man had his warning, a chance to avoid the firing squads if only he chose to comply. It was do or die, the man had a simple choice to make.